We interrupt this faux-art-blog for a word about P

Sometimes you just have to announce it:

This is a public service announcement regarding the amazing-ness of my husband. Let is be known: P is tops. He is. He wins. You're the winner, P! Sweet P. Sweet P who is returning at 1:30am tonight from a ten day work trip and has to be at work at 7:00am to present to parents at 10:00am and the faculty at 3:00pm. Sweet P who leaves in two sleeps after that to keynote at a groovy conference in Malaysia because he's so darn good at what he does. Sweet P who has a lot on his plate and is working very hard and is always hopeful and never seems to be buried by life. Sweet P who is capable and kind and so gosh darn functional. That very same Sweet P supported this wife giving up 60% of her decent and not-too-hard-to-earn salary for ethereal reasons. Wow.

He has always been solid when I've been flaky. He has been positive and patient when I've been here. He has always been my biggest fan. We moved back to good ol' Singapore for a lot of reasons, but one we can't ignore is the financial stability, and I've gone and knocked it off the rails to pursue...well...to pursue something.

I promise I'll make you proud P. And the horrible thing is, I know if I don't, you'll still be as amazing as you are. Three cheers for supportive P!

Catch-up

The last eight weeks:

1. Mooncake folly: About a billion months ago, Gus and I went to a neighborhood mooncake making party. We soon realized from the looks on everyone's faces that our bewilderment on the process and the directions we required to complete the process was the equivalent of an alien showing up at a Christmas cookie decorating party and asking, "Now, which is the cookie and which is the frosting?" "What exactly do you mean by 'spread the frosting on the cookie?'" "Do I use the green sprinkles or the red sprinkles? How many sprinkles exactly? All over the frosting? How many milimeters of frosting?" We were high maintenance and worrisome. And, horror of horrors, we ATE our mooncakes as soon as we made them. It was sort of a Homer Simpson moment looking around at all the other tables with pretty mooncakes in pretty boxes and Gus and I with full mouths and sticky fingers and mooncake guilt.

2. Perspective: A baby elephant strolled down the beach, and I went wild, urging Gus to go over and pet it. Gus looked over his shoulder and said, "Nah. I've seen enough elephants." I was pretty sure I'd failed as a parent in every regard until the neighbor came over with his Golden Retriever and Gus lost his mind with delight. It was a dog you could pet. A dog that wasn't feral. A dog without rabies. 

3. Legos: The male people in this house have Lego fever. I'm considering using Legos as leverage for all the atrophied skills I worry over. Want to build? Ride your bike. 

4. Waiting. We're waiting to learn about the margin in our lives. We're waiting for P to return from a big long work trip. We're waiting for Gram's cinnamon rolls. We're waiting for our winged bean crop on the back patio to be ready for harvest since the last crop was STOLEN by someone who obviously does not understand how desperately a three-year-old waits to harvest his winged beans.

5. Drawing. We tried to draw a Christmas card, and it just didn't work. We're on plan 42. We'll get there. We did eke out something for our sketchbook exchange:

 

6. Mustafa Centre. After ten years in Singapore, I went there today, and it was amazing. You should all be worried about your Christmas gifts.